


Milk and Honey

by hanwritessolo



Series: Objects of Mass Destruction and Affection [4]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Injury Recovery, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-04-21 22:46:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14295114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanwritessolo/pseuds/hanwritessolo
Summary: Sometimes, it takes a mountain to find the sweet road to recovery. Ignis learns that he can't do it all by himself.





	Milk and Honey

The kitchen is drenched in a crisp aroma of freshly brewed coffee, and the sound of a loud crash blows your chest to a frenzied panic. The frenzied panic freezes the time, the frozen time sends your feet to a furious hurry, the furious hurry catapults your body in a whirlwind of worry from one room to the next.

And the next thing you find is Ignis, fumbling along the counters, surrounded by pieces of what used to be a set of porcelain teacups now swimming in a pool of coffee smearing the wooden floor.

In the middle of this caffeinated chaos, Ignis is still faithful to his instinctive nature despite losing his eyesight that he is alerted with your presence before you even rush to help him. He tilts his head and his blank gaze, sightless as it may be, falls toward your direction.

“Don’t worry, I’ll clean this up,” you quickly tell him, as you reach for the nearest rag and begin cleaning the mess.

“I was trying to reach for the milk from one of the cupboards,” Ignis tries to explain himself, and there is a sheepishness in his voice that you barely recognize. He hesitates for a while, and then he adds, “I know you like your coffee with it and—I… I do apologize for my clumsiness.”

Maybe it’s how his voice slightly trembled in a silent yet seething frustration. Or his admirable use of the word ‘clumsiness’ to somehow mock the severity of his condition. Or how, altogether, watching Ignis like _this_ —struggling yet still headstrong, grappling yet forcefully defiant—delivers a pang in your chest that mercilessly wrings your heart out.

The day Gladio showed up with Ignis on your front porch sporting a burnt scar on his face and his vision gone was the beginning of watching Ignis challenge his limitations. Days bled into weeks and you have seen him rise and fall on many occasions. You have celebrated tiny successes with him when he can do something menial on his own, and mourned when he beat himself up at the littlest of failures. You have witnessed him scream in excruciating pain. Once, you listened to him quietly crying himself to sleep at the other side of your bed. The following morning, he swept it under the carpet with a solemn smile on his face.

No one really wants to see the person they love suffer in tight-lipped silence.

Because if you could, you would trade his sorrows at the expense of your own happiness. Strip him away from his anguish and offer every shred of your flesh just to see him made whole. Pilfer every burning star from the galaxy if that’s the price you’ll have to pay for him to see the light of day again.

You suppose that’s how love is. The kind that engulfs the soul. Selfless to the extreme point of ruination. Unabashedly true to the point of sacrifice.

And Ignis feels the same way for you.

So the next words that he utters, a quiver clings at the corners of his mouth: “You deserve to be with someone better, my love—”

“No. Don’t  _ever_ say that,” you did not let him finish the statement as you firmly reply, the vehemence of your voice is loud and clear. “I don’t need anyone else but you. And I won’t let you push me away.”

“I only want you to be happy.”

“I don’t want to be happy if being happy is with someone else, Iggy.”

This time, Ignis does not answer. Nor does he protest with a sigh, a quirk of a brow, a small smile. He does not have a sarcastic quip like he always does, or a smart-ass comment to make you laugh. Instead, he lets the silence linger. Instead, he walks over to you, slowly and carefully, as if he is walking on a tightrope and all he needs is to get to you.

His hands find your face and you let him hold you. He thumbs the softness of your cheeks and he whispers, “I just… I love you. I wish I could see your face again.”

Ignis smiles, and you bite your lip to stifle the sob that wrestles its way to your throat. In response, you take his hands and squeeze it a little tighter, as if to say, _I’m here, I’m here, I will always be here._

 


End file.
